


The Debate

by kathkin



Series: Fellowship Shenanigans [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Gen, very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: "If we were to run out of food, and had to eat a member of the company – we should eat Pippin. Should we not?” / “Oh, absolutely,” said Gandalf. "In fact, why wait? Let’s save ourselves some time and eat Pippin tonight.”In which the Fellowship have a heated debate, Merry is morbid, and everyone picks on Pippin.





	The Debate

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Čeština available: [Debata — The Debate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733801) by [NicWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicWrites/pseuds/NicWrites)



> Based on [my own tumblr post (lol)](http://penny-anna.tumblr.com/post/173297866048/heated-debate-about-which-member-of-the-fellowship).

The day was drawing to a close, the night promising to be cold but thankfully dry. Atop a low hill, in the shadow of a sparse handful of trees, the company was making camp. Gandalf and Aragorn had drawn away from the group into the trees, where they stood conferring. Sam stood a little way down the slope, tying up Bill for the night.

The remainder of the company had found the warmest patch of earth, and there sat doing what they could to make themselves comfortable. Gimli crouched on the ground, going methodically through his pack and talking idly and practically back and forth with Boromir. 

Pippin lay nearby, his head comfortably in Merry’s lap, his eyes closed; Merry stroked his hair, to outward appearances deep in thought, in actuality wondering if he could get away with having a smoke. Frodo puttered back and forth between the trees, eying them thoughtfully. With a brisk nod, he made his selection and began to climb.

A few paces off from the group Legolas stood alone, his head cocked, listening to the wind.

“How are our supplies holding out?” said Boromir.

“Very respectably,” said Gimli. “Although if we run out of food, we can always just eat one of the hobbits.” Chuckling at his own joke, he went back to rooting through his pack. 

Shaking his head, Boromir turned away and busied himself checking his own belongings.

“Now, that’s not fair.” Pippin sat up. “Why one of us? Why not eat you?”

“There’s more meat on you,” Merry agreed.

“No, no, you don’t want to eat me,” said Gimli.

“Says who?” said Pippin. “We could get a lot more meals out of you.”

“And give up my axe?” said Gimli. “Young sir, if we’re ever in dire enough straits that we have to resort to _that_ , you’ll want me here and no mistake. We’re a very hardy people – excellent survivalists. And we taste terrible,” he added.

“Hm.” Merry rubbed his chin. “He’s got a point, Pip. I think we’d have to eat you,” he said, poking Pippin’s chubby side.

“Me?” said Pippin, batting his hand away. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” said Merry.

“I’m the smallest, you’d barely get any meals off me,” said Pippin. “Eat Sam. He’s the fattest.”

“Absolutely not,” said Boromir, not looking up from tightening the straps of his pack. To all appearances he hadn’t even been listening to their conversation. “Under no circumstances are we eating Sam.”

“Why not?” said Pippin. 

“He’s the best cook,” said Boromir.

“Hang on, now.” Frodo now sat perched on a low branch of his chosen tree, swinging his legs happily. “Are you saying that not only would you _kill_ my cousin – you’d expect Sam to cook him so you could eat him?”

“Well,” said Boromir, a touch sheepishly, “when you put it like that.”

“When I put it like that,” said Frodo. “Oh, here he is. Sam, Boromir wants you to cook Pippin.”

Sam, coming up the rise, stopped dead in his tracks and said, “ _what_?”

“I didn’t say that,” Boromir assured him.

“He did,” said Frodo.

“What’s going on?” said Sam.

“Don’t cook me, Sam,” said Pippin. “ _Please_.”

“I’m not cooking anyone!” said Sam. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh no, no,” said Gimli. “No-one’s asking you to cook anyone. We are simply saying that if – may that day never come – we have to resort to eating a member of the company – you’d do a very good job of preparing them.”

Sam folded his arms and glared at Gimli with the aspect of a furious mother hen. “Well, if _that day_ ever comes, you can cook ‘em yerself because I’m not doing it,” he said. “I’m not cooking Mister Pippin!”

“But why _me_?” whined Pippin from the ground. “You don’t want to eat me. I’ll be all stringy.”

In two long strides, Legolas came to stand beside Gimli and said, “if things get so bleak as that, I do not imagine we shall be concerned about flavour.”

“But why not eat Merry?” said Pippin. “He’s bigger.”

Merry opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out Gimli said, “I think we’d be better off eating you.”

“Why?” said Pippin. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Ah, now Gandalf.” Gimli held out a beseeching hand to Gandalf, who was coming out of the trees with Aragorn at his heels. “Pray cover my rear. If – _heaven_ forbid – we were to run out of food, and had to eat a member of the company – we should eat Pippin. Should we not?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Gandalf, eyes sparking. “In fact, why wait? Let’s save ourselves some time and eat Pippin tonight.”

“I’m going to give you the _worst_ indigestion,” said Pippin.

“I’m not cooking Mister Pippin!” snapped Sam, profoundly indignant, indeed downright horrified, at the suggestion.

“He’s joking, Sam,” said Frodo soothingly.

“I don’t care!” said Sam. “It’s not funny.”

“We’ll cook Pippin ourselves,” said Gandalf in reassuring tones. “You shall have no part of it, if you don’t want to.”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just eat Merry,” said Pippin. “He’s bigger?”

“Alright, look, Pip.” Merry laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to say this, for the sake of your feelings, but it’s not just about who’d be best to eat. We would also have to think about – well, you know.”

“I don’t know!” said Pippin. “Think about _what_?”

“Who is contributing least to the party,” said Legolas.

Pippin stared at him. He turned his furious stare upon Merry. “Are you saying I’m contributing _least_?”

“Wellll,” said Merry. “Yes?”

Pippin punched him on the arm.

“Ow!” said Merry. “Pippin!”

“ _How_ am I contributing less than you?” Pippin snapped. “What have you got that I don’t?”

“One, I can read a map, two, I know how to swim,” said Merry, counting off on his fingers. “That’s two things.”

“You do not know how to read a map?” said Gimli to Pippin, aghast.

“You do not know how to _swim_?” said Boromir.

Pippin looked from one horrified face to another, wondering which question to handle first. “I know _how_ to read a map,” he offered Gimli.

“No you don’t,” said Merry.

“I do,” said Pippin. “I just choose not to.”

“I’ve seen you holding maps upside down, Pip,” Merry said.

“It’s true,” said Frodo. “I’ve seen it too.” Pippin shot him a glare, and mouthed _traitor_.

“How do you get where you’re going?” said Gimli.

“Whimsically,” said Pippin with an airy smile.

“Never mind that,” said Boromir, waving at Gimli to be quiet. “You never learned how to swim?”

“I’m a hobbit,” said Pippin. “Of course I didn’t.”

“He knows how to swim,” said Boromir, indicating Merry.

“He’s a Brandybuck,” said Pippin, at the same moment as Merry said, “I’m a Brandybuck,” as if that explained everything.”

Boromir pointed at Sam. “Do _you_ know how to swim?”

“What, me?” said Sam. “No.”

Boromir looked helplessly at Frodo, afraid to ask. “Hm?” said Frodo. “Who, me? I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_ … if you can swim?” said Boromir.

“Well, I haven’t done it for about thirty years,” said Frodo. “Can you forget how?”

“Oh, good grief,” moaned Boromir.

“When am I ever going to need to swim?” said Pippin with a shrug.

“If you fall into a large body of water,” said Legolas gravely.

“Well,” said Pippin, already floundering. “Merry can rescue me.”

“I might just let you drown,” said Merry.

“You wouldn’t,” said Pippin.

“I might!” said Merry.

“Then we’d eat you,” said Gimli.

“Better not. He’d be all soggy,” said Merry. Gimli snorted.

“I just want to say,” said Pippin, “I feel _personally_ attacked at the moment.”

“That’s because we’re attacking you personally,” said Merry.

“You’d barely even get any meals off _this_ ,” said Pippin, gesturing at his little frame. “I don’t know if I’d feed the whole company even _once_.”

“We would ration you very carefully,” said Legolas.

“No!” cried Pippin.

“Look, just make your peace with it, Pip,” said Merry. “I’d be next to be eaten after you, and I’m _fine_ with that.”

“What?” said Sam. “Why would you be next after Mister Pippin?”

“Who else?” said Merry.

“Honestly, I’d say if anyone ought to be et it should be me,” said Sam.

“What? No,” said Merry.

“Absolutely not,” said Legolas.

“We need someone who can cook,” said Boromir.

“I can cook!” said Pippin.

“You burn toast, Pip,” said Merry. Pippin slumped down, defeated.

“I would put at least four members of the company ahead of you, Sam,” said Gimli.

“ _Really_?” said Sam, dumbfounded.

“Which four?” said Legolas.

Gimli looked askance. “I shouldn’t like to say.”

“So, are we all agreed to eat Pippin?” said Gandalf. “It’s high time for supper.”

“Do I not get _any_ say in this?” said Pippin.

“No-one is eating _any_ of my cousins, ever!” said Frodo, so furiously that for a moment the whole company fell silent.

Leaning around Pippin, Merry said, “Is Sam fair game, then?”

“No!” said Frodo. “ _No_ , Sam is not _fair game_!”

“We already agreed that we’re not going to eat Sam,” said Boromir.

“Now, this is absurd,” said Aragorn. “It will not come to that. _We aren’t going to run out of food_.”

“We might,” said Merry stubbornly.

“We won’t,” said Aragorn.

“We might lose all our supplies in a flash flood,” said Legolas.

“Ohh, yes, tis the time of year for flash floods,” said Gimli.

“Then we shall live off the land,” said Aragorn.

“But what if,” said Merry. “What if we get to – _you know where_ – and we run out of food? I mean, is there anything to eat there?”

“Oh, now he has a point,” said Gandalf. “There isn’t anything to eat there.”

“Now, see here,” said Frodo, folding his arms. “Even if it _did_ come to that – we still wouldn’t eat anyone, because killing and eating one of the party would be a horrible thing to do in _any_ circumstances, and entirely against the spirit of _what this mission is all about_.”

“Well put,” said Aragorn.

“Thank you,” said Frodo.

There was an uneasy silence as the company collectively processed what he had said. “Bold words,” said Gimli at length, “from a hobbit who knows he’s off the menu.”

Frodo didn’t have much of a retort to that. For after all, he was most definitely the last member of the party who’d be eaten, however dire the circumstances – with the possible exception of Gandalf. “Well, anyway, I don’t agree that Pippin is contributing least.”

“Oh, no?” said Merry. “How’s he contributing, then?”

“He’s good for morale,” said Frodo.

“How is he good for morale?” said Gimli.

“We’re all having a good time just now, aren’t we?” said Frodo.

“I’m not,” said Sam. “I ain’t cooking anyone, Mister Frodo, make no mistake.”

“We were only teasing, Sam,” Boromir assured him.

“Well, it’s not funny!” said Sam.

“Oh, look now, you’ve upset Sam,” said Frodo. “Everyone stop joking about eating hobbits. You’re upsetting Sam.”

“Ohhh, I see how it is!” Pippin leapt to his feet, his hands balling into tiny fists. “You’ll make everyone stop when Sam gets upset, but you don’t say a word when everyone’s joking about eating me and calling me useless!”

“Nobody said useless,” said Frodo.

“Maybe not, but they were _thinking_ it,” said Pippin. “And you did _nothing_.”

“I’ve been saying all along that we shouldn’t eat you!” said Frodo.

“No, you’ve been saying we shouldn’t eat _anyone_ ,” said Pippin. “ _Not_ the same.”

Frodo spread his hands. “What do you want me to say?”

Pippin said, “I want you to say that we should eat Merry and not me, because he’s bigger.”

“Well, I’m not going to say that,” said Frodo.

“You’re just playing favourites,” said Pippin, “ _again_.”

“How is saying we shouldn’t anyone playing favourites?” said Frodo.

“Because you _never_ take my side!” cried Pippin.

“That’s because you’re always wrong, Pip,” said Merry.

“That’s not remotely true,” said Frodo. “I’m not taking anyone’s side.”

“That’s as good as taking Merry’s side,” Pippin said.

“ _How_?” said Frodo.

“Oh, will you just admit Merry’s your favourite and have done with it?” said Pippin.

“Oh, dear,” said Gandalf softly.

“He isn’t my favourite,” said Frodo.

“He has known me longer, Pip,” said Merry.

“Only because you came out of your mother first!” said Pippin. “Just admit it, Frodo.”

“There’s nothing to admit!” Frodo insisted.

“Now – now,” said Aragorn. “This is getting personal. I say we all stop talking about eating each other. _At once_.”

There was an uneasy silence. Then Pippin said, “you know what, Frodo?”

“Oh, no,” said Aragorn.

“I’m officially downgrading you from, from second favourite cousin to _eleventh_ favourite,” said Pippin.

“That’s quite enough, now,” said Aragorn.

Frodo sat up straighter on his branch. “Did you just put me behind Mosco _and_ Filbert?”

Pippin crossed his arms. He fixed Frodo with a hard stare. “Yes.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” said Frodo. “Well, in that case, I’m downgrading you to, to _one hundred and thirty-second_ favourite cousin.”

Pippin squinted at him. “Eh?”

“How do you like _that_?” said Frodo, satisfied.

“I don’t know what that means,” said Pippin.

“Oh, nooo,” said Merry quietly.

“Work it out,” said Frodo.

Slowly, Pippin began to count on his fingers, an expression of utter bewilderment on his face.

“That’s a great many cousins,” said Boromir to Frodo.

“Well, I’m counting second and third cousins, of course,” said Frodo.

“Why do you know how many third cousins you have?” said Boromir.

Frodo cocked his head. “Why don’t you know how many third cousins you have?”

Boromir looked to Gandalf for answers. Gandalf said, “hobbits for you,” which explained nothing.

“You would eat _me_ before Sam,” said Legolas to Gimli. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I never said that,” said Gimli.

“But you were thinking it,” chipped in Merry.

“I never said that!” Gimli said again.

“I’d eat Gimli before you,” said Merry to Legolas.

“That’s very kind,” said Legolas.

“I already told you, young hobbit,” said Gimli. “We taste horrible.”

“How do you know,” said Pippin. “Have you ever eaten – I’ve lost count.” He stared at his fingers in confusion.

“We shall _not_ be worrying about taste,” said Legolas. “Though elves also taste unpleasant,” he said to Merry.

“Good to know,” said Merry. To Gimli he said, “who else would you eat before Sam?”

“I think I should not say,” said Gimli.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t have a plan for every eventuality,” said Merry. 

“It’s extremely morbid is why,” said Frodo.

“So?” said Merry.

“Who else?” said Legolas to Gimli. “There was at least one other. Wasn’t there?”

“It is only that,” said Gimli, “I cannot help but observe that we have a surplus of men in the party.”

“Ah, you’d eat Boromir?” said Merry, nodding in agreement.

“That’s unfair,” said Boromir. “We have a _far_ greater surplus of halflings.”

“Hobbits,” Merry corrected. “And anyway, that’s part of the reason me and Pip are getting eaten first.”

“You’re impressively calm about your grisly fate,” said Gandalf solemnly.

“As I said, I’ve made my peace with it,” said Merry.

Pippin was staring hard at his fingers. His eyes, slowly, went very wide. “No!” he cried.

“Uh-oh,” said Merry.

Wheeling upon Frodo, Pippin said, “did you just put me behind _Lotho_?”

“I was wondering when you’d work it out,” said Frodo.

“How _dare_ you!” said Pippin. Frodo shrugged, as if to say _how dare I, indeed_.

“Who is this Lotho?” asked Gimli.

“Don’t ask,” said Merry, waving a vague hand at him.

“I have _never_ been so insulted, how _dare_ you,” said Pippin.

“You put me down to eleventh favourite!” said Frodo.

“That’s not the same, it’s not the same at all!” said Pippin. “How dare you!”

“You brought this on yourself, Pip,” said Frodo with an innocent shrug.

“I’ll show you _brought it on yourself_ ,” said Pippin, marching over to the tree where Frodo perched. “I’ll _show_ you –”

“Pippin – NO –” cried Frodo as Pippin grabbed his ankles but it was too late. Pippin yanked hard on his legs and with a yelp he fell from his perch and landed on the ground in a heap.

“Take it back!” said Pippin, pouncing on him at once. “Take it back!”

“No!” said Frodo.

“Take it back right now, you – hey!” said Pippin. “Let go!”

Boromir grabbed Pippin about the waist and heaved him off Frodo. “That’s enough, little one,” he said, laughing.

“Let me go!” said Pippin, wriggling and kicking in Boromir’s grip, to no avail. “Let me go! He deserved it!”

“Are you alright, Mister Frodo?” said Sam, crouching beside him.

Sitting up, Frodo said, “I’m fine, stop fussing.”

“Let me go,” said Pippin, kicking out at Boromir.

“Only if you promise to leave your cousin alone,” said Boromir.

“I shall promise nothing,” said Pippin.

“Very well,” said Boromir, and so saying he turned Pippin upside down.

“No – stop – you’re making me dizzy!” said Pippin, struggling, tangled up in his cloak. “Boromir! Let me go.”

“Let him go, Boromir,” said Frodo.

“As you wish.” Boromir dropped him.

Pippin landed with a bump, rolled onto his back, and announced to the darkening sky, “I hate you all.” He sat up. “Except Sam. You’re my only friend now, Sam.”

“No, that’s alright,” said Sam politely.

“Now,” said Aragorn, “we are all going to stop jesting about eating each other. It’s unkind.”

“Indeed,” said Gandalf. “And we’ve already agreed to eat Pippin.”

“Gandalf, that’s really mean,” said Pippin. “Please don’t eat me. I don’t want to be eaten.”

“Alright, look, everyone leave Pippin alone.” Frodo put a hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “He’s trying his best.”

“I am!” said Pippin. “I _am_ trying my best.”

“And you’re still my joint second favourite cousin,” said Frodo.

“Thank you,” said Pippin. “I’m re-evaluating you.”

“Who is your… _first_ favourite cousin?” said Legolas, puzzled.

“Bilbo,” said Frodo, as if it ought to be obvious.”

“I thought he was your uncle,” said Boromir.

“No, no he’s my second cousin once removed,” said Frodo. “I just call him my uncle because it’s quicker.”

“I thought he was your father,” Gimli admitted.

“What? No,” said Frodo.

“Is talking about eating Pippin making anyone else hungry?” Merry clapped his hands together. “I’m hungry.”

Pippin sat up straighter. “I’m _starving_.”

“Ridiculous pair,” said Gandalf. “You’d best hop to it, then, hadn’t you?”

Later, over dinner, Gimli said, “no no, you see, dwarves are far too tough for eating. It would be like eating old leather. You wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Well, that’s hardly my problem,” said Merry. “By the time we got desperate enough to eat you, me and Pip would have been eaten up already.”

“These are dire straits indeed you’re imagining,” said Boromir.

“We’ve been wandering the barren wastes for so long,” said Merry. “We’ve eaten two members of the company already.”

“We’re so hungry,” said Pippin. “Everyone’s hungry enough to eat dwarf.”

“Well, I wouldn’t eat any of you,” said Sam. “Not ever.”

“Alas,” said Merry. “Then you’ve starved to death.”

“Which means they’ll have eaten you too,” said Pippin. “Tragic, really.”

“Mister Pippin, please, you’re putting me off my dinner,” said Sam.

“I wouldn’t eat you, Sam,” said Frodo.

“Thank you,” said Sam. “I wouldn’t eat you neither.”

“I’d eat Gimli,” said Legolas. “I do not care _how_ leathery he may be.”

“You know what I think?” said Merry. “I think hobbit would be delicious.”

“No, no, I think hobbit would be far too fatty,” said Gandalf.

“That’s rude, Gandalf,” said Merry. “I mean, it’s fair. But it’s rude.”

“You _do_ look delicious,” said Boromir, eying them up.

“Merry, stop,” said Pippin. “You’re going to give them ideas.”

“It’s alright, Pip, I won’t let them eat you,” said Merry, looping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.


End file.
